Valar Help the Bored, Fighting Elf!
by Minka
Summary: With Middle-Earth in peace, Legolas realizes that all is not what it is cracked up to be. Once he gets bored, he contrives a plan to make things change and his life more exciting, with the help of some friends – alive and dead. A cure for writer’s blo


Hello people I have an announcement to make. As of today, I have officially concluded that I have, wait for it, wait for it, wait for it, writer's block!!!!!!!!! (wow, how narcissistic of me, I actually claim to be a write so I can claim to have writers block!? *people mutter; narcissistic bitch!* But yes, I am stuck with everything that I am writing. I mean, I have half a page of The Blood of the Innocent written and am stuck, I have eight pages of Shadows Within; Darkness Without written and am now stuck and everything else I am either stuck on or do not feel like writing! So I did this instead. As soon as I get some ideas, I will be back to writing all that, but in the mean time, this is a cure for my blockage! *runs around hanging crystals and other items to try and get the 'positive energies' flowing about her work space!*  
  
Umm, I am rather proud of this. I mean, it took me a little under an hour to do, and, while not being too funny, has kept a light-hearted mood that is rarely seen in my stories. I hope it is not too much like all those other 'cures of writer's block' stories that are badly written and lacking on the thing called a 'plot' but if it is, let me know and I will find a different way of getting back into the writing mode!  
  
Disclaimer. I own Lord of the Rings - seriously, I have a copy of the movie siting in my VCR at this very minute as well as all the books on the bookcase just to my left. But other than that, I do not own anything else to do with it - I merely 'borrowed' them for awhile. Also, this will end up sending up a movie that I saw just this weekend (it was the worst piece of crap that I have seen in a long time) but if I give away the name than I give away a part of something that you will know about by the end of the chapter. Confused yet?  
  
On with the story.  
  
*****  
  
Valar Help the Bored, Fighting Elf!  
  
*****  
  
Sighing and leaning his head back upon the large trunk of the oak tree, Legolas turned the page of the small, leather bound book that he was reading. Everywhere birds were singing and the sun touched even the deepest part of the forest, bathing everything with her soft glow and bringing sublime joy to all. As his eyes darted over the fine Elven scripted text his fingers idly fiddled with the top right hand corner of the page, flicking it in under and over his short finger nails.  
  
'Bilbo found himself running round and round (as he thought) and calling and calling: 'Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, Gloin, Fili, Kili, Bombur, Bifur, Bofur, Dwalin, Balin, Thorin Oakenshield,' while people he could not see or feel were doing the same around him (with the occasional 'Bilbo!' thrown in).'  
  
"Oh, who cares?" Legolas whined to himself as he shut the book titled, 'There and Back Again, a Hobbits Tale,' and placed the book beside him on a tree root.  
  
Now you see, it is important for you all to remember that Legolas is a caring Elf by nature, and he is not one to just overlook something for no reason. But, having lived in Mirkwood all his life, dealt with the spiders and his father for close to three millennia and faced and defeated a Dark Lord, a simple tale from a Hobbit is not anything to get all excited about. Even if it were the uncle of one of his friends.  
  
Legolas sighed again (he seems to do a lot of that in these years of peace) and closed his eyes. "That's better," he mused as he could see a battlefield full of armed Elves ready to fight down anything that would come their way in his mind's eye.  
  
After the happenings of 3019 of the Third Age, in which he played an immense part of importance, life seemed dull. No all-powerful Evils' lurking about the land bent on domination and destruction, no large spiders scurrying about in the now lush Eryn Lasgalen, no battles to the death with a mass of Orcs while being severally outnumbered. There had not even been a local brawl in a bar that had broken out to his knowledge (and if one had then he would have been extremely disappointed that he had missed it).  
  
It was.perfect. That was it, life was perfect, the way it was meant to be and the way that songs' were sung about. Days of endless peace and idle beings doing naught of importance but growing old and having families.  
  
Ironic really, since, only two years ago all Legolas dreamt about was this sort of quiet in which an Elf could sit alone in a green, evil free forest and read a tale of adventure and odd happenings that were not the same repeated stories of the Last Alliance. He had dreamt of a world were everything would be in peace and harmony, where birds could sing with no fear of leading large predators to their nest resulting in being eaten or where a traveler could ride alone with no fear of never making their destination.  
  
And yet, here he was, doing all the things that he had long craved and all he wanted to do was kill something - whether it be that spider that was no bigger then an arrow head or that damn bird that would *not* stop chirping.  
  
He missed the heat of the battlefield, the trepidation that would build up whilst strapping on his quiver and fastening his gauntlets about his wrists. He missed the thought that, with one simple mistake, one tiny slip in his concentration, his life could be stripped from him and he would be forced into what an Elf would consider an early death. That with every stroke of an enemy's weapon he was at the mercy of their skill and that his only chance of survival was to outsmart or out power them.  
  
It was not that he was a bloodthirsty creature, just that he was not used to the 'quiet life' as his father so liked to put it.  
  
Legolas was a warrior; he always had been and always would be. It was in his blood to fight and to fight well, so much so that it was almost as necessary as the air that he breathed. And, just like with air, when taken away from something that relies so much on it, the being starts to whither and die, losing all light in their world and eventually dropping dead.  
  
Not that I am saying that Legolas was about to carc it at any moment, but he was feeling slightly detached from all that is the world. 'Drop dead' was merely used for a dramatic boost to stimulate the worrying senses in the readers (that's you) mind and heart, forcing them to see all that is bad with eternal peace when you were once a mighty warrior.  
  
Now that I have gotten that out of the way, back to the feelings of withdrawal.  
  
It was with this in mind that Legolas chose to sit there, in the shade of the large elk - no - oak tree and relive the moments that he treasured so much from his 'past life of mindless killing and slaughter' as his father so liked to put it.  
  
"Ah, those were the days," he whispered into the wind only to receive a small part of a dandy-lion in his mouth. Coughing and spluttering until it feel out, the Elven prince glared at the rustling of the trees as if it were their fault.  
  
He recalled the fear that had pounded through his heart at Sarn Gebir when the Fellowship was split and the life of Boromir was taken. He could see the endless plains that made up Rohan as he, Aragorn and Gimli ran, desperately searching for the two little Hobbits that were taken prisoner of the Orcs. He remembered the reappearance of Gandalf as Gandalf the White and the simple beauty of Edoras. Once again he was standing on the battlements of Helm's Deep next to Aragorn, clad in armor and awaiting the masses of Orcs and Uruk-hai. The battle, the noise and the smell of the rain as it hit bloodstained ground, the feeling of need as he groped for arrows in the dark as all his were spent. The fear that had curled its way up his chest to squeeze upon his heart when he found that Gimli was missing and the relief that had flooded him like a river after the lifting of a dam when he found his friend, alive and well. That was what he was alive for, why he was on Middle-Earth in the first place, for that feeling of adrenaline that hit him every time he drew his bow, arrow fixed to the string.  
  
He was that string, drawn and ready for action, and yet, now there was none, now there was only sitting and procrastination. It was thoroughly depressing and he despised it more then anything that he ever had in his immortal life.  
  
Looking wistfully out into the distance, Legolas strained his eyes to see a glimpse of anything that was out of the ordinary. Anything! Alas, he could have sat there for the next three thousand years (and he did have that sort of time on his hands) and still nothing strange would have come looking for him and proclaimed, 'I am strange, slay me!'  
  
Just because he felt like it, Legolas sighed yet again. It was while he was telling himself that he had every right to sigh if he wished to that a bright idea hit him hard in the head.  
  
Well, actually, that was a slight exaggeration of the truth as it was really an egg and it was not all that bright, but it hit him in the head nonetheless.  
  
Wiping egg yoke from his blue eyes and conveniently ignoring the bird that was flapping about his face and blaming him for being in the way of its falling egg, Legolas tossed the idea that had come to him over and over in his head.  
  
It was not one of the best that had been thought, but then again it is awfully hard to think straight whilst being hit hard in the head with an egg so I guess we can let him off this time. It was simple enough, not requiring too much effort and yet it had that slight hint that something interesting might evolve from it if it were put into action. In fact, it was so simple that Legolas found it hard to believe that it took the authoress 1,442 words to come up with it.  
  
'Minka must be getting slow,' he thought.  
  
"Hey!" the authoress interjected into the story for her only self-insertion slot.  
  
Leaping to his feet and running into the woods, it only took Legolas only about three minutes to come back and snatch up the leather book that he had left behind, ruining his grand exit with the need to return.  
  
So, off into the woods he ran for the second time, but not before carefully looking about where he was sitting to make sure that he had not forgotten anything again.  
  
*****  
  
"Are you ill, my son?" Thranduil asked while pushing his glass of mead to the far side of the table at which he sat. The disbelief on his face said a thousand words as he looked his only son up and down with worry.  
  
"No, father,' Legolas replied solemnly. Legolas was rather confused himself as to his father's question as it was a common fact that Elves do not get sick, and, being the fact that he and his father had been Elves for their entire lives (as far as he knew), it was slightly strange to be asked such a question.  
  
"Then you are just crazy!" Thranduil stated.  
  
"Quite possibly," Legolas replied in all seriousness.  
  
"Ah, all right then," the King said somewhat reassured, which in itself was off putting to the prince. His father would rather him to be crazy then to be sick, how did that work?  
  
This little interrogation had gone on since Legolas had returned from the forest and proposed his plan to his father, the King of Mirkwood. It had started with, "please come again," and when Legolas had been more than willing to re-explain his plan, it turned into, "who are you and what have you done with my son?" It had taken a good hour to get over that phase and all of Legolas' prior knowledge of things that he should not have known (along the lines of: what Thranduil sings when washing his hair and what happened 'that' night with 'that' certain Elven lord from 'that' place) to make him see that Legolas was in fact Legolas.  
  
After that had come denial - both on the subject at hand and on the happenings of 'that' night. This was closely followed by the mental breakdown (more so over 'that' night) and then the random questions that were mixed with a good couple of goblets of Elven mead.  
  
"Father?" Legolas questioned at the far away look upon his father's face. Thranduil came back to the present with a few "huh's" and "what's" and when he saw Legolas looking down on him with an expression that said, 'getting a bit senile in your old age, huh old man?' he near jumped out of his skin.  
  
"Ah, Legolas, so nice of you to join me,' Thranduil stated and no sooner had the words left his mouth, he relised that he had been talking to his son for the past four hours. "I mean-"  
  
"It is all right, father," Legolas finished for him, hoping to get the Elven King to agree with his idea so he could get out of there as soon as possible. "Now," he started while standing up and pacing back and forth, his hands clasped neatly behind his back making him look every bit the prince that he was, "what say you about my idea?"  
  
"Yes, umm, about that, Legolas," Thranduil stalled for time, praying for some sort of thing to save him from the let down he was about to deal out to his only son. "I think it would be a -"  
  
"Wonderful idea," Legolas finished again, "I knew you would understand, father." Trying to hide the smile that was fast creeping upon his face, Legolas prepared himself for what he knew was coming.  
  
"Legolas, I did not say that!" Thranduil informed the prince, "What I was going to say was that-'  
  
"It was a splendid plan," Legolas slotted in between Thranduil's words, "I know, father."  
  
"No, I was going to say that-"  
  
"I should get started on it as soon as possible," Legolas ended. Leaning down to kiss his confused father lightly on the cheek, he then added, "I knew you would understand!"  
  
"I-"  
  
"I know father, there is no need for words - I can read your mind!" With that said Legolas turned and quickly dashed out of the room, shutting the door behind him and leaving his father and King completely flabbergasted and to his mead.  
  
Leaning his head against the large wooden door in relief, Legolas congratulated himself on a job well done and the completion and successful execution of the first part of his plan. Phase 'trick father into agreeing to mindless and complete follyish plan' had been a roaring success, well apart from the incorrect English concerning 'follyish'.  
  
Making his way quietly down the hallways to his chambers, Legolas thought over what he would need for this to work.  
  
*****  
  
Rope, check. Dark and menacing looking cape with low hood, check. Riding clothes, check. Food for two, check. Spare cloth, check. Paper and quill for writing, check. Wax, check. That thing that I stole from that person that died in case of emergencies, check. Seven notes for seven other people, check.  
  
Mentally going through all that was either in his hands or in his pack, Legolas assessed that he was finally ready to put phase two; 'alert the ones that are to be alerted and then do that to that person,' of his plan into action.  
  
Handing over the seven notes, all sealed in their envelopes with his royal seal, to seven messengers of his fathers, Legolas ran over their instructions once more. When he was at last satisfied that they could not mess his plan up, he hoisted himself up onto his own white charger and bid farewell to the others. All seven of the messengers split up, riding like the wind off to their allocated locations, leaving the prince watching them with only his imperial guard standing beside his horse, looking up at him worriedly.  
  
"Are you sure this is such a good idea, my prince?" the Elf asked of Legolas.  
  
Looking down and smiling widely, Legolas nodded his head frantically. "Yes, it is a good idea, one of the best that I have had in a long while, my friend."  
  
"Are you certain that you do not wish for me to accompany you on your trip?" The apprehension was evident in the guard's voice and reflected clearly in his eyes as he looked upon the irrational 'young' prince upon his horse.  
  
"I m certain, I mean, what could possibly go wrong?" as soon as he had said the words, Legolas felt inclined to regret them as this authoress was a particularly nasty one and liked to cause mischief.  
  
"Hey, we agreed on ONE self-insertion part!"  
  
"Sorry!"  
  
Back to the story.  
  
"All right then, but I beg you, my prince, be careful." The guard pleaded with the strong willed 'young' Elf. "What you plan to do is folly, do not let it destroy your life -, as your father so likes to put it!"  
  
Sighing for the last time in this chapter, Legolas turned his horse in his intended direction without so much as a glance to the guard. Spurring his horse on, he caught the guard's last words on the subject float on the wind to his ears.  
  
"Do not do anything that you will not live to regret - as your father so likes put it!"  
  
It was then that Legolas first relised that his father was very opinionated on his choices in life.  
  
*****  
  
Tbc.  
  
So, any ideas on what Legolas' plan is? What is the thing that he stole from the dead guy in case of emergencies? If anyone comes even close to the plot then I will - pity you, for that would mean that your mind works somewhere along the lines of mine and that is truly frightening!  
  
Please review!  
  
Minka Rain Greenleaf. 


End file.
